Hurry

Summary:

Connor was not human. He was less than, more than; he didn't know. He did not know what he was. He knew that he wanted; much like humanity. But what did he want?

Work Text:

There were many things about this world, this world that was so different from his own, that Connor did not understand.

Here, in this hell they called LA the people were always in a hurry, always had somewhere to be. It was ironic, Connor thought. Ironic that they never realized what lurked within the dark alleys they took as short cuts, unknowing that what hid there would make sure that they'd never be seen again.

Always in a hurry…

He had been in a hurry once too. Faster, harder, he thought as he smashed, crashed, kicked and, fought his way out of a hell dimension, and right back into another. But what was he fighting for? Truly, he did not know. He thought he had been fighting for revenge, for his Father's dead family. For the lives that were stolen, ripped away by the corrupt hands of a lowly demon- by a monster.

But he wanted to meet that monster, deep within he knew he did. That monster that helped bring him into this world. This harrowing world that was filled with apathy and hate. It was filled with it, reeked of it, and so did Connor.

He was taught that humanity was sacred. That they were the only creatures that were born pure; born with souls.

Once upon a time Connor believed that. Once upon a time Connor thought that he was human.

Humans hate, they lust, they love. Humans want.

Connor was not human. He was less than, more than; he didn't know. He did not know what he was. He knew that he wanted; much like humanity. But what did he want?

And Connor, he wanted love. He wanted it so bad he could practically taste it, the words clinging to his lips begging to spoken. But to who? For he still could not feel it, and he knew that no one felt it for him.

Connor was bitter. Bitter boy with enough teenage-angst to make several after school specials about. Like the ones he saw on the picture box- a TV Fred had called it when he asked, and he didn't fail to notice the pitying look in her eyes at his lack of common knowledge.

But shame was a feeling Connor knew well, and he felt it then as he ducked his head, face out of view and told her, Thank You.

Father insisted on politeness. Yes, sir, no sir. Always so formal- composed. Even when he brought Father the whip, for he had to be punished for the sins of that monster he longed to see.

Father told him to repent with each lashing of the whip, and Connor complied, apologizing to God and to Father, who said he hurt him out of love.